Karen Whiddon - One Eye Open

From the general area outside the office, Brenna could hear a woman sobbing.

“There.” One officer pointed to the tallest man in the video, the obvious leader, the one with the bare chest and intricate tattoo twining up his muscular arm.

“Can’t see his face,” another man grunted, leaning so close to the monitor his nose touched it.

A grumbled complaint from the others moved him back.

Brenna held her breath, letting it out with a loud sound as she got a better look at the criminals’ leader. He was built like her brother, yes. But there the resemblance ended. Though she couldn’t make out the killer’s features, she could tell from the way the man moved that he was not her twin.

Relief flooded her. Carson’s unwavering certainty that her brother had gone bad had given her doubts. But the man in the video was not Alex. A quick glance at Carson told her he knew that, as well.

“Hey.” Catching the interaction, the detective moved closer. “Why didn’t you come with the other DEA guys who called this morning? They’re on their way in.”

Carson went still. “We wanted to be first,” he said. “We wanted to check around on our own.”

Though the other man nodded, Brenna got the distinct impression he knew Carson was lying.

“As a matter of fact, I think we’re gonna head into Hawks Falls and look around there. We’ll check back with you guys tomorrow to see if anything new turns up.”

As they left the room, Brenna heard one man comment, “DEA or FBI, they’re all the same. Always want to sweep in and steal the glory, even from their own.”

“What was that all about?” she asked, as soon as they were outside. “Why aren’t you working with the other DEA guys?”

He didn’t answer, just yanked her truck door open with a brusque motion. Without protest, she climbed into the cab, the puppy still tucked in the curve of her arm.

“Just a minute.” Carson indicated the young dog with a wave of his hand. “Leave the animal here.”

“No. That’s not negotiable. He comes with me or I don’t go at all.”

Carson frowned. “That puppy doesn’t belong to you.”

“He does now.” She pulled the door closed behind her with a thunk. Adjusting her seat belt, she made sure the dog was comfortable before turning to look at Carson, who was still standing outside the truck. Finally, as she continued petting the pup’s soft fur, Carson shook his head and strode around the vehicle. He climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed his own door. Without another word, he started the ignition and put the vehicle in Reverse.

“Tell me one thing,” he said, one arm draped over the back of the seat. “Are you bringing that dog because he’s your brother’s?”

Brenna laughed. “You really think Alex would bring a puppy with him to rob a bank and kill a bunch of people? And then leave his pet behind?”

Carson lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Why not?

In his tone she heard what he did not say: If The Wolf didn’t value human life, what would the life of one small animal matter?

“Not my brother’s,” she told him finally. “I think the owner was probably one of the people killed in the robbery. Now it’s your turn to answer a question. Why aren’t you working with the other DEA agents? You lied. You didn’t even know they were coming.”

Carson drove as if a demon were chasing him, rapidly increasing their speed until they were hurtling down the highway. They took the left lane by storm and passed every other vehicle they encountered.

“What are you hiding?” Brenna heard the taunt in her voice and lifted her chin. “Tell me, Mr. Level-With-Me. Why aren’t you working with the other government people?”

“I work better alone,” Carson snapped. “I’ll find him and bring him in before they even get their heads out of their asses.”

“You never stop, do you?”

His expression grim, he shook his head. “No. And I never will. Not until he’s in custody.”

“Did it ever occur to you that he might still be undercover?”

“Yeah.” His mouth twisted. “It did. Briefly. But I saw him. I’ll never forget that. He shot my family, then threw away the gun. And he never contacted me. Ever. Not even the day of the funeral, the day I buried Julie and Becky. He was my partner, damn it. My friend.”

The bitterness of betrayal rang in his voice. Unable to take the stark desolation in his eyes, she looked away.

“That wasn’t Alex in the video,” he said finally. He eased up on the gas pedal and moved into the middle lane.

Staring at him, she nodded. “I know.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved.”

“He wasn’t.”

The puppy whimpered, shifting in her arms. Some of her tension must have communicated itself to the animal. Taking a deep breath, Brenna forced herself to relax.

“You’ll see,” she told him. “Once we find him, I’m sure he’ll have a reasonable explanation for everything.”

Ignoring her, Carson exited the freeway and pulled into a service station.

While he refueled, Brenna concentrated on her new companion. He had to have a name. For now she would call him Phelan, little wolf.

As she spoke the name out loud, three times in the custom of her people, the puppy raised his head. He lifted a small foot, accepting the naming with quiet dignity. As she took his paw in her hand, Brenna saw a splotch of rust marring the white fur. Blood, dried and flaking. Surely Carson had tissues or something in the glove box. A sidelong glance showed her that he had his back to her.

She opened the glove box. Inside there were no tissues, only a few sheets of paper, crumpled and wadded into a ball. One of those would have to do. Smoothing one out, she glanced at the words printed on it and froze.

“Leave of Absence—Medical.” Swiftly she scanned the rest of the document. In disbelief she read it again, before crumpling and tossing the paper back. Carson Turner had lied. Whatever he did, he was no longer acting under the auspices of the DEA. Since early summer, he’d been on forced medical leave. Six months ago. That meant that in his hunt for her brother, he was acting alone and unsanctioned, his reasons personal rather than official.

A private vendetta. Now, more than ever, she knew she had to find Alex first.

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